Inferno
by Nidhoegg
Summary: You-know-who is the most vicious opponent possible? Think again. An ancient evil is preying on the boy-who-lived and a certain potion's master will have his hands full protecting his new charge from hell itself. AU, after OotP, no Slash, REWRITE!
1. Prologue: A mysterious stranger

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately I don't own anything *sniff*

**A/N:** Okay, where to start... First of all, I'm so very sorry. After reading DH inspiration left me and I broke this off. Now, I have mostly turned my back on Harry Potter, but this story didn't leave me alone. Last week then I went back to work on chapter 8. And what did I realise? First of all, I still like this story and I really plan to finish it. And secondly, my writing has changed drastically, so that I decided to re-do everything and start anew.

So, to everyone who has read the first version, some things have stayed the same, some things have changed completely. Thank you for sticking up with me, I'd love to hear from you through reviews.

Oh, and if anyone is interested, I have put up pictures of Luke on my deviantart page quite some time ago. Look on my profile for the link.

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I. Prologue: A mysterious stranger

_Everything is black. Pitch black. I can't see anything. __Nothing. Where am I? A vision? Perhaps. _

_No. There are no sounds. It feels like I'm deaf. And blind. "Hello?"_

_My voice lingers here for a moment. Then it turns to nothing. Nothing to hear. Nothing to see. Just space. Empty, dark space. Am I dead?_

_No. I can't be. The whole wizarding world trusts in me. I am their hope. Their only hope. _

_But would it be so bad?_

_Would I even feel angry? Sad? Anything at all?_

_I sure wouldn't miss my Aunt and Uncle. Anything would be better than life at Private Drive. _

_What about my friends? Wouldn't they be devastated if I died? Perhaps. Who would save them then?__ But they know nothing about me. They only see my fame. Just like everyone else._

_No. I wouldn't mind death. I would perhaps even see Sirius again. And mum and dad. They would be there, right? Right?_

_I can't remember dying. And I would, wouldn't I? _

_Slowly I'm getting bored staring into nothingness. Blackness. Darkness. It's something that seems to follow me lately. Dark thoughts. Doubts. Despair..._

_Perhaps if I close my eyes I can go back to sleep. Or are they even open?_

_Now__ there's a presence. Hiding somewhere in the dark. Well, then it might still be a vision. _

"_But I'm not Voldemort."_

_I almost scream. There's a voice. I can finally hear._

_A soft chuckle. "Yes, you can hear me. But that's not important now, is it?"_

_Not Voldemort? What a pity. Voldemort might finally kill me. But I don't say anything aloud. _

_Still I wonder. If not Voldemort then who is talking?_

"_Ah, well, that's an interesting question, isn't it__? But I'm not sure if I should tell you..."_

_Arrogance. Oh, how I hate arrogant people! __Just like Malfoy! Or Snape for that matter. Now, judging by the sound of the voice I'd say it's a male. But I never heard his voice before, so..._

"_Who are you?"_

"_Well, first of all, I'm not really arrogant, you know. Cautious, yes. But not arrogant."_

_His voice is slippery. Slimy. Sliding through the void._

"_Who are you?!"_

_My voice gets more insistent. I want to know, dammit!_

"_So impulsive, my, my."_

_I really would like to throttle him right now. But I stay calm. Years of enduring the Dursleys have taught me to stay down in questionable situations._

"_And smart, too. I'm impressed."_

_I can hear his smile, even though it is still darker than night._

"_I think I will tell you."_

_There's a pause. Filled with silence._

" _Yes, I will."_

_I raise an eyebrow, though I'm not sure if he can see me any better than I can see him._

"_I carry many names. But you may call me Luke."_

"_Luke. Well, I'm Harry." _

_No need to be impolite._

"_I know."_

_This is getting weirder and weirder._

"_How do you...?" _

"_How could I not know. I'm in your dream. In fact I __am__ your dream."_

"_Then you aren't real." _

"_Ah, not quite. There are people who think I'm just a kind of legend. __A dream. Some worship me. Some fear me like, well, the devil himself. Still for you I am in fact some layer of your reality. And soon I will be a lot more, if you let me."_

"_What do you mean?" _

"_I'm here to help you. I'm your friend. At the moment I am the only one you can trust. Believe me."_

"_Why should I? You're just a dream. Nothing more. How could I trust you? You're only an image of my fantasies."_

"_But I'm far more than that. But I understand that you, the Boy-who-lived, needs proof. So, what do you say, I show you my loyalty. Name a wish!"_

_A wish? What is he, a fairy?! Oh, whatever. What damage can a dream possibly cause? Let's see... well, considering it's summer and Vernon is in best form, beating the shit out of me, what could I wish for?_

"_Ah, I see. Right now your greatest desire is to get away from your relatives. I can't say I'm surprised. Sleep well, Mr. Potter. Sleep well. We'll meet again soon....."_

_The presence is gone. As is the voice. Luke. What a weird dream! I close my eyes for a moment and sleep surrounds me once more._

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He woke to the sound of his aunt's voice screaming at him through the closed cupboard doors. Something about breakfast and a dirty kitchen floor. Harry sighed. A morning like every other since the summer holidays had started. Now he would get up, go to his aunt, let himself be insulted by her and then by his uncle until he finally would make breakfast without getting something to eat himself. Wonderful.

He stretched and his sore muscles immediately protested. This cupboard was just too small. A year ago he had still been allowed to use Dudley's second bedroom. His aunt and uncle had feared that his godfather, infamous criminal and supposed murderer Sirius Black would come and kill them all. But a whole year had gone by without Sirius showing up, so Uncle Vernon had decided it wouldn't be too dangerous to move Harry back into the cupboard under the stairs.

Of course, since then nothing to do with Harry's freakishness was mentioned. The boy himself refused to think about that dreadful night in the Department of Mysteries. And he sure as hell wasn't pouring out his heart to his oh-so-caring relatives.

Although Harry was pretty small for his age, he still had become too large for the small cupboard. Not that it bothered the Dursleys.

/At least I don't have too change every morning.../, he bitterly thought. He only had a few clothes with him in the cupboard. Precisely a far too big shirt, equally oversized jeans and three sets of underwear. And his pyjamas were still in his trunk which had been taken by his uncle. He didn't know where it was hidden now. Perhaps he had already burnt it all.

With a sigh on his lips he crawled out only to be pushed back inside by his cousin. With a dirty laugh Dudley went into the living room and Harry, holding his head where he'd just hit it on the stairs' underside, had to hurry after him, so his uncle could shout at him for being late. Of course, Vernon Dursley usually didn't need a reason to shout at his nephew. It was like a favourite sport in the Dursley household.

But as Harry walked into the room after his cousin Vernon was already hidden behind his news paper. /Seems I'm lucky today/, he mused and continued his way into the kitchen where his aunt was already waiting for him.

"Where have you been, you lazy freak? Go, take care of Diddy's breakfast!", she hissed and went to greet her oh-so-lovely Diddykins. Harry almost made a comment that he knew where _Diddy _had been during the last few nights while he should have been sound asleep. He was sure his aunt would love to hear about dark alleys and biker bars.

But the result would only be more chores and a "lecture" from his uncle. No, it was safer to just do what they wanted. That was something he was good at, being invisible. So, obediently Harry went over to the stove and poured oil into a pan. Dudley preferred his scrambled eggs buried under a ton of greasy bacon.

He stepped over to the fridge and looked inside for the raw bacon usually wrapped in a white plastic paper. It was strange, Petunia normally put them right at the front so that the rest of the food wouldn't be touched by his dirty fingers. Not today. A frown was forming on his forehead. Where was the stupid bacon?!

He carefully glanced at his uncle and aunt. Should he ask? No. Nonono! Bad idea! Vernon would find a reason to punch him sometime during the day anyhow; there was really no need to offer him a reason on a silver platter!

Frantically he turned back to his search. Praying to whoever was listening that the damned stuff would finally show up.

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Professor Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the Hogwarts School for witchcraft and wizardry was sitting in a cafe in London. A muggle cafe. The people walking by threw curious glances at him. He obviously didn't fit in there. He had made a lame attempt at looking like a muggle, but with his long white beard, his twinkling eyes and the combination of clothes that no muggle in his right mind would ever combine he looked like a combination of the wizard of Oz and a drugged off hippie.

But the questioning looks and hushed whispers surrounding him didn't bother the headmaster. He just wanted to get a new pack of lemon drops and get a bit out of the castle. And he had always liked to watch people while drinking a good cup of coffee. It was a shame that coffee was one of those things that magic could never create the same way an ordinary muggle machine could.

It was a normal day. A bit warmer perhaps than usual but still a normal summer day. Birds were singing, children laughing and housewives were meeting at the street corner chatting about the latest scandals.

Albus was just watching the passer-bys. A small boy with an ice cone in one hand was running after a pigeon, laughing delightfully.

"Mr. Dumbledore?"

The headmaster started ever so lightly at the sudden voice next to him. Turning towards the interruption of his musings he saw a young handsome man dressed casually in muggle clothes. Long silvery hair was tied to a pony tail and modern glasses glinted in the sunlight over almost amber eyes. His voice was a soft baritone and his way of speaking was calm and friendly.

"That would be me. As you already seem to know about me, may I ask who you are?"

The headmaster's intense blue eyes seemed to look directly through the stranger in front of him, although the latter didn't seem to bother. In fact he just smiled.

"My name is Sam. Sam Divell. My cousin is a witch, but I'm just a harmless human. Still it's a pleasure to meet you, Professor."

The man, Sam, was still smiling, but Albus had noticed that his eyes didn't mirror his friendliness. And his gut feeling told him in no uncertain terms that this _harmless human _was far more than that. Indeed something about this Mr. Divell was dangerous. Very dangerous. Not showing any of his suspicions Albus smiled back while carefully reaching for his wand under the table.

"So, Mr. Divell. What can I do for you? Or did you just want to greet an old man in a cafe?"

His strong gaze was directed into the other's cat-like eyes. Sam's smiling face became thoughtful but still there was no visible feeling in his stare.

"Now that you ask, Professor, a few days ago I visited a small town in Surrey. Little Winging I think it was called. Perhaps now you know what or better who I am referring to, don't you?"

Something inside the headmaster had gone cold. This man spoke of Harry. Harry Potter. His student. His charge. The old magician's voice carried icicles when he replied.

"What is it you want to tell me, Mr. Divell?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. I'd just want to say that perhaps you should check on your students more often. Have a nice day, Professor."

And with that he had vanished as if he had never been there. Only seconds later the strange looking man with his white beard had also disappeared. All that remained was a steaming cup of coffee on one of the tables.

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At 4 Privet Drive in Little Winging Harry Potter wished he could also disappear. The bacon wasn't to be found. It just wasn't there!

"Boy!"

Great, uncle Vernon had noticed that Harry had searched the fridge for over ten minutes now. Steeling himself, the raven-haired boy turned around with his eyes glued to the floor.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

A shadow fell over him as the bulky figure of a man approached.

"Where's the breakfast, boy?!"

He closed his eyes to await the first punch when he saw something move in the hall. A fleeting shadow not visible for more than a second, but Harry was sure it had been there.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!!!"

He was tempted to reply that Vernon didn't exactly say anything, nor was he planning to.

"Yes, uncle-"

A deep growl interrupted him mid-sentence. All present in the kitchen whirled around to stare at - nothing. The door to the hallway was open and the sound had definitely come from there. But there was nothing.

"You!"

Vernon's finger poked hard into the boy's chest making him wince slightly. Of course, everything out of the ordinary was Harry's fault. Just blame him and everyone is ha-

Another growl heightened the tension in the room. This time, though, it had sounded like more than one creature.

Dudley squeaked terrified and tried to hide behind Petunia which was ridiculous considering the differences in weight. Vernon was taking a brave step towards the door, but quickly jumped back as deep scratches appeared on the floor. But still, nothing could be seen.

Still, something was there. Something that seemed to have razor-sharp claws. The floor consisted of tiles. Even Harry, in spite of his being a wizard had yet to meet an invisible creature with tile-cutting appendages.

A clacking noise resounded in the now deadly silent room. Whatever was visiting had just taken a step forward. Soot rained down on the white floor.

More clacking and scratching and it was clear they didn't have only one guest. Quickly casting a look around, Harry noticed that his relatives had stepped as far away from the door as was physically possible, making the slim boy the most available victim. Not liking that prospect at all, he slowly started to retreat, too.

And then everything went pretty fast. A flicker appeared in thin air over the scratch marks on the floor and within the blink of an eye four incredible ugly dog-like _things_ were standing in the kitchen of Private Drive No.4.

They all had the average height of a wolf, but that was where the familiarity ended. Big heads with long snouts from which sharp teeth could be seen added to a thin, even bony body of horrent black and dark grey fur. The image of terror was completed by an unnaturally long reptile-like tail and claws that seemed to be of black diamond.

A full minute went by in complete silence, before Petunia let out a scream that would even tear up a banshee. The dogs, led by the biggest one, a vicious looking black creature, took this as their signal and in perfect synch they lunged at the three Dursleys.

Harry had to turn away from the terrible scene of screams, growls, breaking bones and ripping flesh. But the sounds alone drove his overtaxed mind over the edge and so he didn't recognize the figure standing shocked in the doorway. Nor did he hear the stunning spell sent at the killers of the last family he had had.

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So, completely new last scene. Better? Worse? Tell me what you think.


	2. Homeless

**Disclaimer: **Still I don't own anything.

II. Homeless

Dumbledore had first thought of going to Little Winging himself. But quickly reason won and he decided to return to Hogwarts, inform Poppy, take care that everything would be ready for an emergency and send one of his fellow teachers to look after Harry. Yeah, that would be the best thing to do.

Walking fast through the entrance hall he looked out for anybody he could trust to save the boy if that would be necessary. Fate had it that the first person he met was no one else than Severus Snape. Sighing slightly, Albus decided that the potion's master was definitely not the best choice but time was running short and steeling himself for the inevitable argument he called the professor over.

"Albus. I thought you were enjoying your day in muggle London. Why are you already back?", the black-clad potion's master asked in a way of greeting.

"I see, you must have really missed me, Severus. I have a mission for you. Come along."

Regretting he ever got out of his dungeons, Snape strode along with the headmaster. That look Dumbledore had had on his face when he mentioned this mission was screaming that whatever it was Snape would not like it.

"Now, what is it you want?"

Albus didn't stop to turn around. Instead he quickened his pace while answering.

"I need you to check on Harry."

"Harry? As in Harry Potter? What has this ungrateful brat done this time?"

"Severus!"

The tall man was tempted to reply with an irritated _What?!, _but thought better of it. It would have been a little bit childish.

"Severus, you know I'd never ask you if it weren't something of high importance. And really, all I want you to do is go there, see if the boy's alright and when you're sure he is, you can come back immediately."

With that he left the potion's master still standing in the middle of a deserted hallway. Muttering a curse in some long dead language Snape turned around and left to look after his most disliked student. Why was it always him who drew the short straw?!

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Arriving at 4 Privet Drive, he was welcomed by a blood-curling scream coming from the muggle house.

Swiftly looking around for any enemies, Snape ran up to the front door only to find it wide open. He cursed again, this time more loudly and drew his wand.

Slowly he sneaked along the hallway noticing with disgust and a sense of trepidation the unmistakable smell of burnt flesh. There was ash on the floor. What for Merlin's sake had happened there?!

Again there was a scream and whimpers coming from what he supposed was the kitchen. But that wasn't the only sound. He could also hear distinctive... growling?!

The only solution not involving the Death Eaters finding a way to break through the protections was Black. But that was impossible! Sirius Black was dead! Swallowed by some freaky veil in the Department of Mysteries.

The screams ended in an ugly gurgling sound. Snape slapped himself mentally for wasting time out in the hallway.

He rushed into the kitchen only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight before him. No, that was definitely not Black. Not a Death Eater either.

The _thing _which was turning around to face the trembling boy at the counter looked like nothing the Potion's Master had ever come across. There were four of them. Generally dog-like looking. Tall, shaggy creatures reminding him loosely of the school's Thestrals.

Severus was dragged out of his momentary daze as the beast lunged forward. Without really thinking what he was doing he shouted "Stupefy!"

The creature yelped and jumped back, the others heads shooting around to stare at the wizard. Severus swallowed and gripped his wand a little tighter. /Stay calm/, he tried to tell himself. Seriously, he had battled Death Eaters, dementors, hell, even Voldemort hadn't fazed him. But these monsters gave him the creeps!

Four pairs of coal black eyes pierced his. Snape corrected his stance, ready to fight. His muscles were tensed. His gaze determined.

The wand started on his first attack. But from on second to the next there weren't any targets. The creatures had vanished. Poof! Gone. That was until long scratch marks appeared on the tiles.

The bastards were invisible! Cursing his own stupidity, Severus shot another stunning spell blindly in the direction of the marks on the floor. A pained screech was all he got in reply.

The spell had hit! Good. Another attack was to follow, but this time the creatures were faster. Some unseen weight hit the teacher full on and he stumbled backwards.

But these beasts wouldn't get away with killing him! Oh no! He would-

-stare in open surprise as the scratches of four sets of claws showed a hurried escape out of the front door. The creatures had flown.

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Still shocked at what had just happened Snape turned back to the kitchen to take a look at the boy. He was unconscious. Well, at least, now, he wouldn't be chatting away Severus's last nerve.

He wondered what he had just seen. Had it been some strange creatures from a foreign land? Had it been a curse? As much as he tried, there just was no satisfying answer.

A muffled moan pulled him out of his thoughts. The big hippopotamus-like man -Snape decided that would be the boy's uncle- was obviously still alive. A real miracle considering the amount of blood pooling around him. Well, lucky him.

"You! What's your name?"

Surprised to hear the strange voice through the fog in his mind Vernon Dursley answered without considering who the stranger might be.

"V-Vernon D-D-Dursley."

Smiling slightly that he now had a victim for his interrogation skills, Severus asked another question. Hopefully, he would soon find out what that thing had been and then he could just dump Potter with the headmaster and enjoy the rest of his holidays.

"You know what happened?" Okay, that was more a statement than a question...

"Ha-happened? Wha-?...." Suddenly Vernon's face turned from extremely pale to an even paler shade with a slight greenish tinge.

"That-That thing! Potter! Th-The freakish....freakish nothing....no-no good excuse for...for a-a living being!"

He coughed. Foamy red splatters landed on the broad chest.

The whale of a man continued his broken cussing, but Snape wasn't really paying attention. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that the life of the famous Potter would be like this. It looked like he would have to rethink some of his opinions concerning the boy.

But now was not the time.

"....and-and when I....I g-get him, he-he will...will beg for-for mercy! But...."

"Shut up! The boy could never have done something like that. Try again! And this time the truth would be nice."

"W-was the boy! F-f-freak has....has done this to...to attack m-my family! Course, you...you s-say it not h-him. Y-your l-lot is all...all the same!"

Rage was bringing back some colour to his features. Severus was sure, had this man been able he would have attacked already.

The wizard had heard enough. He knew there were muggles out there that disapproved of magic. But what he was seeing here went beyond dislike. This was hate. Why for Merlin's panties had Albus left his precious boy here?!

With a sad shake of his had, Snape turned to go back to Potter who had yet to stir from his impromptu nap on the kitchen floor. It was then that Vernon Dursley noticed the carnage decorating his once pristine kitchen. His eyes bulged and his breath quickened, becoming squeaking pants.

"P-p-petunia! No! No!"

A gaze that was beyond sanity locked on the black-clad man hovering a few feet away.

"You! You-you k-killed them! Murderer!"

Severus stopped short and met the crazed man's stare coldly. This ox of a human was calling **him** murderer?! The man that had just let out an impressive stream of curse words about his own nephew?! How dare he?!

"I didn't kill anyone-"

"Then...then th-the boy, that...."

"-Yet. Keep on going like this and that might as well change."

It shut him up for a moment. It was enough for Snape to finally walk back to the raven-haired boy and gather him into his arms. He was shocked deeply at how thin the saviour of the wizarding world was.

With a last angry look at the bleeding man, Severus waved his wand, summoning Potter's belongings and notifying the muggle emergency service. Then he carried Harry outside and disappeared towards Hogwarts.

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He was pissed. No, he was beyond pissed. He had planned this for centuries! Not that time was really important down here, but still! He just hated it when his plans were crossed.

Every detail had been taken care of. The boy's dream. The promise to take him away from his relatives. Of course, he hadn't told the boy exactly how he would get him and where to. Then he had sent his loyal dogs to kill the family and most importantly kill the boy, so that he could take his oh-so innocent soul under his caring wings. The child would have the power to finally break the chains that bound him here in the burning caves in the centre of a blue planet gliding through space.

Perhaps he shouldn't have told that walking corpse of a headmaster to go look for his precious one. Ah, but the temptation had been so sweet. He had been sure the faster the world knew of their glorious saviour's not so glory decease the more suicidal souls would come to stay in his realm forever. And he could have told _Harry_ that they all had died because of him. Oh, the plan of a real genius! Everything had been perfect! Unfortunately, that old coot had reacted too quickly. The boy was safe. And he was angry.

But he had to think positive. He smiled at that thought. Now he would have more time to gain the child's trust. And, to be honest, he really loved a little challenge. There were still so many possibilities. It would be fun.

At the moment the kid was still unconscious. What a nice opportunity. With a chuckle that sounded more like a goat's bleating he made himself comfortable and prepared to visit the boy's mind once more.

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_It is dark again. It's always dark in my dreams. Or perhaps now I'm dead?_

_I can remember the dog__s. Horrid abominations. Maybe they killed me. But if I'm indeed dead then where am I? Shouldn't there be other souls, too?_

_Or am I still asleep and that whole day was nothing more than a fantasy created by my subconsciousness? _

"_No, it was real."_

"_Luke! So it __**is**__ a dream!"_

"_You could say that, yes. In fact, you're unconscious. No need to worry though. You aren't hurt or something."_

"_What happened?"_

"_Oh, I thought that would be obvious. I made you a promise, remember? You wanted to get away from your abusive past. E voila. You will never have to go back there."_

"_You__ sent these-these __**monsters**__?! They are dead! I never wanted to kill someone! Not even them!"_

_A soft chuckle._

"_Well, first of all, I'm sure my lovely pets would be highly offended that you call them monsters. Besides, your relatives deserved what they received. And I may remind you that__ you__ killed nobody. It me that helped you. I'm not expecting to be thanked, though or something like that. I just want to be your friend. That's all I ask from you."_

"_My friend?! You nuts? I don't even know if you are real. And how could I probably trust in a murderer like you?!"_

"_Ouch. That wasn't very kind of you! I granted your wish. I was the one who saved you from these humans. At least you could be a bit nicer! And if you really want to 'meet' me we can do that. Look."_

_A man appears in front of me. He's tall. His long silver hair falling elegantly over his shoulders. He wears a black coat with silver ornaments. His features look friendly and a bit melancholic. He's young. Perhaps around twenty. But the most amazing thing are his eyes. I never saw a human with golden eyes. They're beautiful._

_It seems he has again read my thoughts for __he smiles and makes a small bow before me. His eyes staying locked with mine through it all._

"_Now, you met me. Of course, you can't know me yet. But I think we're heading in the right direction."_

_His smile is slippery. Polite, but deceptive at the same time._

"_I feel you're getting tired. And too soon you will wake up. So, we have to hurry. Since I obviously didn't prove myself to you I'd really like to help you again. Name a wish."_

_A wish? No way! One murder because of me was more than enough! Still... I don't have a place to go now that the Dursleys are gone. I can't go to the Burrow. It would be far too dangerous for them. But perhaps..._

"_...you could stay at Hogwarts? That shouldn't be much of a problem. I'll leave you now, Harry. But we'll meet again. Soon. For now, rest. You will need it."_

_And with that Luke vanishes into the darkness. I can sleep again. But these eyes still haunt my mind._

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A/N: Again, much has changed. Please, tell me what you think.


	3. Wishful Thinking

**Disclaimer: **Still I don't own a thing.

III. Wishful Thinking

He woke up in silence. And darkness. The first thought that crossed his mind was /The cupboard! I'm in my cupboard. Everything was just a stupid dream. Aunt Petunia will scream at me any second now and then all this shit is going to happen all over again./

But something wasn't quite right. He lay in a comfortable bed. Not on a hard mattress. And if he listened carefully he could hear soft snoring coming from his right. It couldn't be his relatives. They would be upstairs. Not that his uncle's snoring couldn't be heard even under the stairs but this one was different.

Curiously Harry opened his eyes. And gasped. He knew this room. Even without with glasses and in the shaded twilight of night. So many times he had been forced to stay here, lying in one of these beds. /The Infirmary! Hogwarts!/ He couldn't believe it.

He looked around, happy to be back at what he considered home, for the moment just content. He didn't wonder about the how and why. At least for the time being. His eyes' blurred vision roamed the quiet room, widening when a dark figure next to his bed captured his attention. It took the boy's befuddled mind a moment to register just who was slumped there in an uncomfortable looking chair, sound asleep.

Now, that was impossible! Of all the people Harry might have expected, Professor Severus Snape was definitely on the bottom of the list. Surely it was a trick of light, an illusion brought about by too less sleep. Harry blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes cautiously and even went as far as to pinch himself. But every time he looked, his professor was still sleeping there as if he had wanted Harry to not wake up alone. Of course, this way of thinking was ridiculous! Snape most likely couldn't even pronounce the word caring. He would never do anything for a student. And especially not for Harry!

Deciding that someone must have hexed him Harry shifted under the covers and got back to sleep. Hoping dearly he would still be in Hogwarts when he woke again.

The journey back to the castle hadn't been difficult. The boy limply in his arms, Severus had apparated as soon as he had left the wards surrounding 4 Privet Drive. Before that he had shrunken the boy's belongings and put them in his pocket.

As he arrived at the school Albus had already been waiting for them. The fuss the old headmaster had made over the unconscious boy had been expected, but still unnerved him to no end. The child had just fainted for Merlin's sake! The spoiled brat would far too soon wake up and everything would be just fine. Dumbledore would be more than happy to look after Famous Potter and he could disappear in his dungeons for the rest of the summer holidays.

Unfortunately it hadn't been as simple as that. Albus had finally led them to the infirmary and called for Madam Pomfrey. Severus had rather immediately gone back to his quarters but Dumbledore insisted that he stayed a moment longer. So, begrudgingly he silently watched as Poppy worked on the boy.

It was then that they had found the bruises. Violent and dark. A stark contrast to the otherwise pale skin. Almost every inch of the boy's back and chest was covered in horrendous witnesses of atrocities done to the young body.

There were also a few poorly healed cuts on the child's shoulders. It looked terrible. First the Potion's master had thought the dog-creatures had caused the damage. But quickly it dawned on him that there was no way that these beasts had reached Potter before he joined the party. Besides, these marks were older!

Snape had to swallow hard as his mind caught up with the harsh facts of reality. How could someone do this to a child?! How could some fat stupid muggle do something like **this** to his own nephew?!

The man hadn't liked the boy. That much had become clear after Severus had talked to the brainless bastard. But he had never expected the muggle to actually lay hand on his charge!

And deep down in the icy depth of a broken soul the potion's master felt something like sympathy for the boy creeping to the surface. Of course he would have never admitted these feelings to anyone, not even himself

The headmaster on the other hand had no such problems and stated his opinion rather clearly. He was furious at what Harry's uncle had done. And he was angry with himself for never noticing what the child's home life had been like. He swore an oath by the great Merlin that this poor boy would never have to return there. Never! He would stay at Hogwarts till they found another solution.

Severus wondered just how they were supposed to send Potter back anyway. The aunt was dead. The cousin as well. And he didn't think the uncle would live much longer either. Still the gesture counted, right? He shook his head ever so slightly and turned his attention back to the problem at hand. Potter had just managed to become the centre of attention once again, but this time, his teacher didn't feel repulsion. No, this time he actually felt for the boy.

To say Poppy was shocked, would have been an understatement. She had healed Harry countless times in the past, but never had she noticed any sign of abuse. And now the ugly evidence of a less than perfect home painted her patient's thin body in dark blotches of colour. But this wasn't the time to regret passed chances. Her patient, the boy needed her knowledge and not her pity. With all the self-control the nurse could muster she pulled herself out of her first initial shock and started to try and help the kid.

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Severus stayed. Even as Dumbledore excused himself saying he had to take care of any consequences this latest attack might bring forth and search for information about the creatures Snape had mentioned. He asked Severus to help, but the potion's teacher stayed with Potter.

He couldn't tell why he stayed but he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything as long as he knew the student was up here, lying still and unmoving on the stark white linen. This sight was so indescribable wrong!

Of course, he wasn't worried or, god forbid, concerned for the boy. If anyone had asked he would have said he was just interested in the admittedly strange affairs that had happened to the Boy Who Lived. Nothing more.

So for the time being, he made himself comfortable. Or as comfortable as you could get in the Infirmary.

After a while, Poppy left to work in her office, Severus sat in the white plastic chair next to the boy's bed, watching him sleep. Somewhere deep inside of him he felt a warm fuzzy feeling rise as he looked at the peacefully sleeping form in front of him. With a barely concealed smile which existence he couldn't quite explain himself, Snape returned his attention to the latest articles on self-reversing poisons and the poor attempts at explaining enzymatic inhibition by some muggle scientists.

He somehow got so immersed in his reading that a few hours passed before he looked up to check on Potter. The teen had somehow managed to get rid of his covers and Snape carefully picked them up and gently tucked the boy in again.

Immediately he berated himself. This was Potter for God's sake. The same spoiled brat that had done everything to make his life a living hell!

But now? How could he still think the same after what he had seen? The short glimpses Severus had been forced to see of the kid's home life were quite telling. He had to admit that Potter wasn't spoiled at all. In fact his life seemed to have been gruesome, cruel and so achingly unjust . Just like his own had been…

The dark-haired man sighed heavily and slumped back in his chair. Thinking about his past wouldn't do any good. What was over was over. Once and for all.

Instead of creeping around in the shadowed crypts of his past, Severus kept on watching Potter sleep. And soon he himself found he couldn't resist the unrelenting pull on his eyelids. It had been an exhausting day, after all.

Still, even in his dreams he was haunted by a shaggy wolf-like creature with long black claws and acid saliva dropping on invisible ground, disappearing with an ugly hiss. But instead of the long bony snout, the beast's head had been replaced by Voldemort's abhorrent features. The thing chased after him and the dark Lord's high pitched voice shouted threats and insults at him, uncovering his betrayal, pointing him out as the traitor he was.

It was surprising he didn't notice when the boy stirred and gasped. But then again, he really was too occupied fighting the monster dog with miniature Vernons he threw at the laughing head of Voldemort.

The next morning came bright and early, sunlight streaking through the milk-glass windows of the school's sick bay. Harry woke to voices arguing near his bed. Being as curious as he was he kept his eyes tight shut and carefully listened to what was said.

"You know we have no choice." Dumbledore's voice sounded strained, as if too much worries and too less sleep had fried the immovable headmaster's nerves thin.

"No, there are various choices. Various. But this isn't happening! I-WON'T-TAKE-HIM!"

What the- Snape?! Harry nearly jumped out of bed as he recognised the second voice. Luckily the two men didn't notice. Why was Snape there? It didn't make any sense. And who were they talking about?

"Severus. You know quite well I'd never force you to do anything but this really isn't the time to try my patience. It is vital that he has somewhere to stay for now! Harry can't go back to his relatives. We both agree on this. So…"

They where talking about him! That Snape of all people should take him. Take him where? To the professor's quarters? His home? Neither sounded too compelling to him but at least in the first case he would be at Hogwarts. And in any case he would be away from the Dursleys. Still, Snape...?!

"I understand that the little brat has to stay at Hogwarts, but why for heaven's sake can't you put him with someone else?! Or take him yourself!"

"My dear Severus, you of all people should know that most of the staff is gone by now. Professor Flitwick is helping Sirius and Tonks. Remus is in Egypt with Bill Weasley for at least two more weeks. I hope they will have found you-know-what by then. Molly and Arthur are hosting the Grangers and Minerva has already left for Sweden and soon I will be leaving, too. So, we-"

"You will be WHAT?!"

"Leaving. For Sweden, Severus. We have, well, Order work to do there."

"You're going on a fucking vacation and leave me with HIM?!? Alone?! With the Dark Lord only waiting for an occasion like this?!"

"Severus, kindly watch your language. And I'm not going on vacation. Minerva and I are going to search for something that could give us a great advantage in the near future. And you can always contact me. I also have put up new wards. So, you're totally safe here. Should the dark lord call you for a meeting, you can leave Harry in the castle for a while. And really we won't be staying too long."

A stunned silence followed the old wizard's statement. Finally, Snape grunted some kind of unwilling affirmative.

"Wonderful", Dumbledore exclaimed. "Now, I have to go packing. Harry will soon wake up. You can show him to your rooms then. I'm sure the two of you will have beautiful holidays. Good bye, Severus."

He could hear the headmaster's steps as he walked out. Totally shocked at what he had just learned Harry remained still and waited for the inevitable explosion. He didn't have to wait long.

Snape overcame his own shock pretty fast, growling dangerously while he kicked the nearest bed cursing in some long forgotten language. Not only would his privacy be ruined by some hormone-infested teenager, no, it had to be bloody Potter!

In his anger he didn't notice the big black bird sitting on the windowsill. It rustled its feathers and watched the raging man through its storm grey eyes. After a while it spread its wings and flew unnoticed back into the shadowed caress of the huge forest. Something would have to happen soon.

Not much later Snape, still angry, took Harry to his quarters. After a walk that felt more like a hiking trip through some unexplored cave system – Harry wondered if they were walking in circles - they finally reached a huge stone statue looking like a cobra ready to strike. A snake. Of course, what else?

Harry waited for a password of some sort. A potion. An ingredient. Maybe some kind of spell. But he never expected the password that actually came.

"Fillet of a fenny snake,  
In the cauldron boil and bake;  
Eye of newt and toe of frog,  
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,  
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,  
Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,  
For a charm of powerful trouble,  
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble." (1)

Staring a bit dumbly at the teacher, Harry had to bite back a snicker. Never had he imagined that Snape would use some kind of _poem_ as a password. The bat out of hell! Reciting poems!

Then he wondered just how in Merlin's name he was supposed to keep something like **that **in mind, since it was obvious Snape wouldn't repeat the words.

Harry sighed, deciding now was not the best moment to think about anything overly complicated. So, he waited for a door to open, the statue to slither aside or some other reaction. Still he flinched as the cobra awoke to life and answered in Parseltongue.

"_By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes.  
Open, locks,  
Whoever knocks!"_(1)

Hadn't this weird occurrence shocked Harry breathless, what happened next left him with a dropped jaw and eyes as big as dishes. The large stone reptile opened its mouth wide and bent forward. The marble tongue changed into worn-out stairs. Snape stepped forward, entering the statue as if it was an everyday sight. Harry shuddered at the thought of stepping into a stone snake's mouth, but he didn't really see an alternative, so he reluctantly followed the dark figure of Snape.

All the while he wondered why the statue had answered in Parseltongue, a language Snape couldn't even understand! Perhaps the professor had taken the poem from a book of some sorts which the cobra knew. But then it had been about a potion, right? He didn't think anyone would write a potion's book in rhymes. And snakes couldn't even read, could they?

All thoughts of the strange password were forgotten, though when he entered Snape's living room. Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He had expected something cold and uncomfortable. Damp and gloomy. But the room he found himself in was neither. Well, it wasn't as comfortable as the Gryffindor common room, but also far from the dungeon Harry had pictured.

The room was almost circular. In the middle a long small table was surrounded by a dark green sofa and an equally green arm chair. On the floor lay a carpet with the Slytherin's

Emblem. A huge fireplace completed the sight. On the wall there were shelves filled with books. Most of them seemed to be quite old and expensive. Harry would check them later.

Severus waited until Potter had looked through his living room impatiently. He was kind of proud that he had such a comfy home. He often lay on his sofa to read while the fire in the fireplace slowly burnt down.

Now, he wouldn't be able to do that for the rest of summer. Damn the Potter prat!

"Finished staring at my things, Potter? This is the room you will stay in. You can sleep on the sofa. Don't touch my books, my fireplace or any other things you might destroy with your inability! Don't make any noises! I have to work on my potions and don't need you to disturb me! My office, my laboratory and especially my bedroom are none of your business! Stay away from them! If you're hungry, call a House elf. The bathroom's down the hallway. Here is your stuff. Enjoy yourself."

With that the potion's master turned around and walked into a room on the left slamming the door shut behind him.

Harry was left standing a bit forlorn in Snape's living room. He looked around and decided it wouldn't hurt to take a look at these books over on the shelf. Usually he wouldn't have bothered that Snape didn't want him to touch them. This was a totally abnormal situation though. He would have to live with the man for at least two weeks. By then, Remus Lupin would hopefully have returned.

For now Harry would have to find a way to stay out of Snape's sight. It wouldn't be very smart to piss his teacher off. Not on the first day, at least.

The books' covers proved to be unreadable. Time had not fared them well and the once elegant letters had faded. The boy sighed, a bit disappointed. Now he couldn't gather blackmail material, like poetry books and the like. But who did he want to fool? Snape couldn't be blackmailed; the greasy git would only declare detentions for the rest of his academic career.

Looking through Snape's quarters he found a photo showing the potion's master's graduation.

All seven graders were on the picture. And soon he had found his parents together with Lupin, Sirius and Pettigrew.

He still couldn't believe Sirius was dead. He had tried everything to not think about that night. And over the last two days he had actually succeeded. There had really been other things on his mind. But now, seeing his godfather and his parents smiling and waving, forever captured in a time of happier days, he couldn't stop the tears from silently rolling down his cheeks. He took the picture carefully off the wall and seated himself on the sofa.

And there he sat. And cried. And sobbed. As quietly as he could to not disturb Snape and embarrass himself further. He wasn't a little child anymore, he shouldn't bawl his eyes out over a photography, but, damn, it hurt! Slowly, the emotional exhaustion added to the physical strain and sleep dampened the pain for a while.

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_The scene felt oddly familiar. A dark forest at night. The only source of light spilling forth from the bobbing wands of his inferiors. _

_The air was humid and clear. Obviously it had rained not too long ago. The smell of firs and damp soil wafted through his nostrils, sending a shiver of gleeful anticipation down his spine._

_Panting could be heard. Hurried footsteps, slightly muffled by the soft ground. His prey was near! A shrieking laugh pierced the cool night air, raising the attention of a few scared owls. It took a moment to register that it was him producing this inhuman sound._

_Then suddenly - There! A frightened scream torn from another shameful being. Only seconds now, parting him from his price. Oh, nothing could be sweeter than the feeling of victory when sinking his proverbial claws into another mudblood!_

_Now, just around the last tree! There he could see-_

_Nothing. The vision stopped abruptly as if someone had pulled the plug. _

_Completely dazed by the sudden change, Harry just stood blinking confused into the surrounding darkness._

"_If I might say so, you should drop that deer-in-the-headlights-look. It doesn't suit you."_

_Harry shot around, coming face to face with Luke._

"_What?-You....How?!"_

_The tall man chuckled, softly tucking a wayward silvery strand behind his ear. The rest was tied loosely in his neck, with their tips reaching the waistband of his dark grey jeans._

"_Quite eloquent today, I see."_

_A glare was all he received in response. Luke shrugged._

"_Oh, well, not in the mood for a little joke, right? Then I guess, we should come down straight to business."_

_Harry snorted, not really sure if he wouldn't have preferred staying Voldemort this time. As helpful as Luke had been so far, he was also scaring him shitless._

"_So, Harry"_

_He rolled the "r", making it sound a bit teasing._

"_First things first. May I ask why for hell's glory you were sitting in on this unattractive scene?"_

_The boy shook his head slightly before answering._

"_It was a vision. I didn't choose to have a little soul party with Voldemort."_

_Luke was silent for a moment, his long, pale fingers building a triangle under his chin, a thoughtful expression on his features._

"_I see. There useful, aren't they?"_

_Harry raised his eyebrow._

"_Duh, yes, they're useful. Doesn't mean I like them, though."_

_A smile tugged at the corners of the silver haired man. When he spoke again, though, he ignored the last comment._

"_One should keep and nourish everything useful."_

_Unnerved by the unneeded advice, Harry chose not to answer. _

"_Now, Harry, back to our topic. I have done what I could, although I have to admit the arrangement isn't perfect. Still, you can stay at this school for the rest of the summer."_

_The student nodded, not quite sure what Luke was aiming at._

"_So, as I have proven my willingness to help you, why don't you tell me the reason for your tears?"_

_His eyes widened as the man's words sank in._

"_How do you-?"_

"_Oh, I've kept an eye on you, of course."_

_For a moment they stared at each other in silence. Luke waiting patiently and Harry trying to choose his next words carefully. In the end he headed for the truth._

"_I've found a picture of my parents. They are dead."_

_Luke took these news in stride, half-heartedly trying a sympathetic look._

"_I'm sorry. But you know, there is a way for you to reunite."_

_The bait was there, now he only needed to wait._

"_You-what?", the boy croaked._

"_It's dangerous, of course, but with my help you could see them again real soon."_

_Suddenly, Luke grimaced and his appearance flickered._

"_Harry, I have to go now. Think about my offer. I will see you again soon."_

_Before he could offer a reply a voice permeated the blackness._

"Harry, wake up, damn you!"

_He looked around, but Luke was gone. Slowly the darkness became lighter, losing its gloominess. _

Harry's eyes shot open, meeting the concerned dark gaze of his teacher. He was going to be sick...

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**A/N: **So, next rewritten chapter. Snape's password as well as the statue's answer are taken from William Shakespeare's masterpiece "Macbeth".

Now, please, be a good boy/girl and leave a review, 'kay? You'd make my day!


	4. Getting to know you

**Disclaimer: **What a surprise! I still don't own anything!

**A/N:** This chapter took a bit longer. Sorry. Real life's a bitch...

**Warnings:** Ah, well, perhaps I should have written this earlier already, still.... There is some quite colourful language in this story from time to time.

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IV. Getting to know you

Severus was still seething after he had left Potter in the living room. What had Albus been thinking to dump that Gryffindor prat with him of all people?! His privacy would be ruined! When he thought of what Potter could do to his books and furniture nausea rose in his throat! Oh, why did it always have to be him?!

The teacher tried to distract himself from his uninvited guest by concentrating on his newest potion. Not a difficult one, luckily. If anything went wrong it wouldn't blow up his quarters.

He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't hear the quiet sobs coming from the living room. And soon the hissing steam rising from the blackened caldron drowned out the quiet proof of sorrow.

Even while working on chopping daisy roots his mind couldn't shake the image of one black-haired boy looking so fragile in his stark white Infirmary sheets. He had never seen the boy so damn vulnerable. No child should have to look like that. And still, the bruises spoke volumes of Potter's home life. Never would he understand how a man could hurt someone half his size, a family member nonetheless! The question now was what would happen? Severus begrudgingly realized that he would have to find out about the Uncle's condition some time s-

A bloodcurdling scream pulled him out of his thoughts. Potter! The potion quickly forgotten he sprinted into the living room and rushed over to the boy.

The student seemed to be fast asleep at first and his Professor started to relax again. That was until he started thrashing around and clutching his forehead. Cursing under his breath Severus lunged forward and caught the smaller wrists in his long fingers. He had only once witnessed Potter suffering a vision. It had been scary, even for him. Another agonized cry tore from the boy's throat, sounding more like a wounded animal than a fifteen-year-old youngster.

Knowing he would have to somehow get the boy awake, he strengthened his hold ever so slightly and pressed him down. All the while calling for him to wake the fuck up.

The change came on suddenly. One second Potter was fighting tooth and nail, the next his body went limp. Severus loosened his grip on the boy and studied the lax features, concern quickly resembling something akin to panic. Wasn't Potter usually waking up after a first-row seat to the Dark Lord's activities? Shouldn't he be jerking up now, eyes the size of saucers and screaming bloody murder?

Yet, his most disliked student was oblivious to the great Potion's Master making a fool of himself. But this wasn't natural! No way could the brat sleep on peacefully after seeing Voldemort's racketeering!

He leaned over the small form on his sofa and shook his shoulder lightly.

"Potter! Potter, wake up!"

No reaction. Nothing. He tried again. This time a bit louder.

"Potter! For Merlin's sake, wake up! Now!"

The boy didn't even stir. Slowly the potion's master's concern grew. It shouldn't be so difficult to wake a boy up had just bore witness to one of You-know-who's crimes!

He shook the boy again without gaining a reaction. This was growing more and more frustrating!

"Harry! Damnit, Harry wake up!"

Perhaps he should contact Pomfrey. He took a step towards the fire place to floo the nurse, but stopped abruptly. The boy had flinched slightly!

"Harry, wake up!"

There! The kid finally blinked and looked up at him. He hadn't felt so relieved in a very long time. Of course, he'd never say so aloud.

Potter looked like he wished he hadn't woken at all. And Severus couldn't deny the fact that now that the boy was conscious again he didn't know what to say. He always knew what to say or do! But right then and there he was at a complete loss.

He didn't get too much time to ponder his possible actions, as Harry quickly stumbled to his feet and rushed in the general direction of the bathroom, one hand clamped over his mouth.

Severus swallowed heavily. There had been instances in his career when a blotched potion had caused a rather hurried retreat of a student to meet his latest meal again. However, the Potion's Master never even thought about accompanying them. Therefore he wasn't sure just what his next step should be...

Finally, he hesitatingly followed the retching sounds into the white-tiled bathroom.

Harry was kneeling on the cold tiles, a picture of misery. Had someone asked him about the last time he had ate something more nourishing than bead crust, he wouldn't have been able to give a concrete answer. The Dursleys hadn't really cared if he got enough food, as long as he obeyed and did his chores. Still his stomach seemed keen on proving that even without eating anything you could puke just fine.

He was about to try and hex his guts into oblivion, when a cool hand settled soothingly on his neck and a familiar but unusually soft voice permeated the fog clouding his conscience.

"Relax, Potter. It only gets worse if you fight it."

The voice, silky and strangely caring, belonged to Snape, greasy, detention-for-the-rest-of-your-miserable-life Snape. In his wildest dreams Harry couldn't have come up with a situation more surreal or awkward, yet, it a way, the other man's presence calmed his frying nerves and evoked a feeling of safety that had eluded him for so long. He let go.

Severus felt the moment Potter started to relax. His shoulders lost some of their tension and the dry-heaving eased. Mentally, the Professor gave himself a pat on his shoulder, while at the same time noting down a mental memo to get the boy something to eat soon. It took a few minutes longer for his charge to calm down enough to have a talk. Leaning the kid back against the tub, Severus decided to ignore proper social behaviour and eased himself down into a sitting position.

"So...", he began, completely thrown by the state of affairs. The Potion's Teacher wasn't exactly known for having girly one-on-one talks with his pupils.

Emerald orbs, misted over by unknown worries, met his dark ones, boring through well-placed mental shields to the very core of his being. Just like Lily, so much like Lily....

After a moment filled with uncomfortable silence, Severus cleared his throat and tried once again.

"So.... you didn't sleep well?"

_Way to go, _he told himself angrily, _of course, he didn't sleep well!_

"Peachy", came the hoarse reply.

The older man winced slightly, before swiftly getting off the floor and fetching a glass of water. Potter took it gratefully, draining the cool liquid in few gulps, then handing the glass back. Severus took it and placed it on the sink. He returned to his position on the floor, wondering briefly what Albus might think if he were to walk in on them this very moment.

Once again silence fell over the room, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Various set phrases came to his mind, but Snape turned every one of them down. He couldn't help it, he just wasn't the kind of person that hugged and claimed that everything would be okay, that there was no pain and death in the world, that they all lived in some fucked up fairy-tale. He couldn't say that, because he knew it wasn't true. Most likely there wouldn't be a happy end, no happily ever after. Not for Potter, and definitely not for him.

Still, he had to say _something_. Otherwise they would probably spend the whole day freezing in the bathroom, staring at cold unyielding tiles.

"It was a vision."

He looked up, locking eyes with the world's proclaimed saviour, a frightened, hurt boy, fragile and yet so strong, his father's mirror in appearance, his mother's in character.

"What did you see?", he asked quietly, almost afraid to hear the answer. He had witnessed enough of the Dark Lord's doings, each of them repulsing, sickening, a completely new kind of wrong.

The boy's breath hitched.

"I-I was....", he stopped, taking a deep breath.

"Take your time."

He was seriously surprising himself. This whole scene so wasn't like him! Still, he had experienced some events that had left him reeling in a similar way. And, besides, it just, well, _felt_ right...

A small smile flitted over the boy's face and he took another deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"Okay", he nodded softly. "I was him. I, well, I was following someone - a... a muggleborn, yes. Erm, I was hunting him down, through.... through a forest! There were others, too. Death Eaters, I think."

He stopped, looking exhausted to the point of fainting. Severus studied him, turning the description of events over in his head. He hadn't been summoned. Had it been some kind of foresight? He should ask more questions, see what Potter remem-

He hissed, startled by the sudden searing pain in his left forearm. Just great, obviously it **had** been a premonition of sorts!

Snape felt torn, on the one hand, he didn't want to leave his charge in a state like this, on the other hand, duty was calling and he couldn't afford to ignore a summoning.

Green eyes met black ones, exchanging all important facts without a sound. Harry nodded, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

"Go, Professor. I'll fall asleep any moment anyway."

As much as he disliked the idea, Severus had to go. He knew something had just changed between them, dampening the hostility both had carried against the other, but now wasn't the time to go soul-searching. The Dark Lord had called and he was to follow.

Casting one last look, the Potion's Master hurried out of the bathroom, grabbing cloak and mask and stalking to the fire place. Green flames flared and he was gone. A soft "Be careful..." voiced by a shy teenaged boy following him into the darkness.

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Harry stared at the fire place where Snape had just vanished moments ago. It was strange, he felt as if he had betrayed the man somehow. Of course, this was ridiculous! He had told the old bat more than he would have at any other time, still..... It irked him somehow that he hadn't mentioned Luke.

With a heavy sigh, he wrenched his eyes off the empty fire place and stumbled over to the couch. He felt beat. Completely exhausted and drained. It was normal for him to be a bit grumpy and tired after a vision - and who could blame him for that? - but what he experienced here was a whole new level of post-vision sickness, as he had come to call it a while back.

His legs refused to carry him any further than the edge of Snape's sofa and Harry didn't protest when his body slumped onto the cushions. Finally in a seated position that also resembled something akin to comfortable, the teenager closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to drift.

It should have been a real shock to have Snape, teacher dickhead extraordinaire, act almost human. Surprisingly, though, he only found weariness and a little regret when he let the last view minutes replay in his head. Weariness, because he had despised the man for as long as he had known him and wasn't about to lose his distrust in him over a small niceness. Regret, because, well, it had taken them over five years and another near death experience to get to this point of him lying in Snape's quarters and worrying about him.

Harry took a deep breath. He did worry about his teacher. Which was definitely an improvement, since he lately only found himself capable of experiencing either rage or grief.

After a while of more pondering these latest changes in his life, Harry decided that since it was obvious he wouldn't be getting any more sleep, no matter how tired he felt, he could as well do something productive.

Any physical work would have been impossible - he wouldn't be getting off the sofa any time soon - but he could try and read a bit in his Potion's Textbook. Under normal circumstances, potions would be the last book he'd choose to read in, but, since he'd be staying with his Potion's teacher it might be a good idea. Thus decided, Harry persuaded his legs to carry him to his suitcase where he fetched the book and back to the couch where he collapsed in a comfortable heap. Maybe, just maybe, he could even find something to impress Snape.

And, honestly, shouldn't it be wrong to feel warmth spread through his chest at the thought of Snape being positively impressed by him?

Whatever. He started reading, but soon found himself drifting off, exhaustion pushing him slowly under. The thick book became his pillow. Harry fell asleep.

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He smiled. His plan was playing out well. Humans were so easy to manipulate! Almost too easy. He had decided this whole ordeal would be far more fun if he let the boy live just a little longer so he would have enough time to destroy his prey's life. Oh, what a wonderful idea. Of course, all of his ideas were wonderful!

Then he remembered the _vision_. A funny name for something so ordinary. He had met many souls that had had the power to see through others' eyes. Nothing special, really.

But what the boy had seen had been quite intriguing. That admittedly ugly man with the red eyes had been astounding! An evil man. A man without mercy. Without a caring heart. A beautiful example of mankind!

A human devil. He laughed at that thought. Mortals were always so keen on giving themselves frightening names. That man as evil as he may be would never know real darkness! He would never achieve a power even close to his own! No human would ever come close to **his **abilities. He was the most powerful creature. Not even heaven's forces would be able to stop him!

He would get the boy. And then he would be free once again!

Only the pure of heart could open the last gate. The gate back to earth. Back to heaven. No one here in hell could do it. But the child! The child would open it for him. And then, finally, he could take revenge!

But first he would destroy the kid's life, piece for piece, until nothing remained and Harry James Potter, bearer of light would gladly bow at his feet and pledge eternal allegiance! Shrill laughter echoed through the caves of the underworld. Yes, the boy would be his! The final tool on his way back to absolute power!

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_Oh, not again! _

_He almost whined. Almost. _

_Once more, Harry found himself in complete darkness. He heaved a sigh, already knowing who would appear._

"_What a pity, so I'm not a surprise visitor anymore."_

_Wearily turning around, Harry met Luke's golden gaze before shrugging. He wasn't in the mood to talk. And even if he were, the older man still gave him the creeps._

_A smile curled thin pale lips._

"_I see, I'm not welcome right now. How sad..."_

_He paced in silence, thin fingers intertwined over his midsection. Harry slowly found the other's behaviour rather unnerving. Luke threw him a sideways look; he stopped and spread his arms like a grandfather inviting his grandchild for a big hug._

"_Come now, Harry. Haven't I helped you? Haven't I cleared your way of any obstacles? You should be-"_

"_What, thankful? That you killed the only living family I had? They were abusive bastards, yea, but even they didn't earn to die like this! And if you were oh-so-nice and helpful, then tell me, where were you when Voldemort slaughtered my parents? Where were you when he murdered Cedric right in front of me? Where were you when Sirius had to die? Well?! Care to tell me, where the __**fuck**__ you were hiding then?!"_

_It was wrong to lose his calm like this, but, damn, it felt good! All this pain in the past, the sorrow of watching everyone he loved die a gruesome death. He had bottled it all up inside, telling himself he had to stay cool. Balanced. _

_Screw balance. He knew Luke had indeed helped him a lot, but who did he think he was claiming to be his fucking saviour?! _

_He stood there, glaring at the silver-haired man, his panting sounding loud between them. Already he started to regret his outburst and thought about just how you could say /sorry for blaming you for all that has gone wrong in my life./_

_But Luke only smiled, lowering his arms. He actually seemed to more than happy with getting yelled at._

"_My dear! That was quite the emotional outburst, Harry. I'm impressed. Tell me, have you ever screamed at your friends like this? Shared your turmoil and gave over the responsibility for a while?"_

_Harry met his glowing stare, confused, unsure of what he should feel. Finally he shook his head. Luke nodded._

"_I thought so. But, no offence, how can they really be your friends if you can't even yell at them? How can you call them your back up when you can't trust them to have your back?"_

_Had he been thinking clearly, he might have started yelling again. But t__he golden orbs in the pale face sparkled almost hypnotically and Harry wondered. Was it true? Ron, Hermione.... did they even know him? Did they know anything about his feelings?_

_There were no words needed. The answer was staring him in the face, out of two unnatural coloured eyes. They weren't really his friends if they knew nothing about him, right? _

_Right?_

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Far above the dungeons, headmaster Albus Dumbledore was slowly walking towards his office. He was worried about the latest events, not at all happy to face another probable attack of the enemy. But foremost, he was angry. Angry at himself for not noticing what was going on with Harry's relatives sooner. Angry at whatever had attacked them. And angry that he had to leave now of all times, but Minerva had told him about her findings and it was imperative that he got there quickly.

Mindlessly he uttered his password, climbed the stairs and opened the heavy wooden door. He stepped inside the cosy oval office.

"Ah, Professor Dumbledore, I guess."

Taken completely by surprise, the old wizard looked up, his gaze falling on a young man, leaning casually against one of his armchairs at the desk. He was of average height, his black, slightly curly hair falling unruly into his piercing grey eyes. The suit he wore, hung loosely around a muscular frame, making the man look serious and easy-going at the same time. His dark stubble underlined the rock star image further, adding to his overall appearance.

"Who are you?", the headmaster questioned. He hadn't expected any visitors and mentally already cursed himself for letting this young man get the drop on him.

The other smiled, his cheeks showing dimples, lighting up his face immensely.

"I'm Azra. Azra Iel. I was told to first meet the headmaster when I arrive, so", he shrugged, "here I am. At your service."

He saluted cheekily, mischief glinting in storm-hued eyes.

Dumbledore raised a brow. This was just what he needed, another unexpected turn of events. He sighed. The youngster didn't seem to be here for trouble, though the headmaster would stay on guard for now.

"Mr. Iel-"

"Oh, please, Professor, call me Azra."

The older man huffed, studying his counterpart carefully. Usually, his icy blue stare sent the toughest guys running for cover, but the black-haired man only grinned, meeting his gaze square on. Impressive...

"Alright. Azra. What can I do for you?"

The grin grew into a smile.

"I was already afraid that my information got lost somehow."

He self-consciously scratched his head, only his eyes relying that he was watching Dumbledore just as carefully as the older wizard was watching him.

"You see, Professor, I'm a graduate, finished school last year at Angell Academy, a bit south of Seattle, USA. We are quite unknown in the magic community, unfortunately, if I may add. Now, I want to become a teacher and my Prof told me there's some kind of exchange program, allowing me to go to a British school for magic and stay there for a year or so. Learning by doing, or something. Sooo, here I am, ready to learn!"

For a second Dumbledore stared a bit dumbfounded at him. Never had he heard of this Academy. Never of an exchange program. But the young man seemed to be honest about his claim; his age fit to a freshly graduated student, his attitude matched that of many wannabe-teachers. And hell, they needed every help they could get, especially with the latest developments and the new DADA teacher hopefully arriving in about three weeks for the start of the new school year.

One last examining look, before the headmaster of Hogwarts shrugged, hoping dearly he wouldn't regret this decision.

"Alright, Azra. School starts in about three weeks. Unfortunately I have to leave now for a study trip. Professor Snape, our potion's teacher is still here, a student is staying with him. And our school nurse, Madame Pomfrey is also remaining in the castle."

"Excuse me Professor, but is it common here to allow students to stay over summer?"

Dumbledore smiled, he had wanted to test the other's reaction, trying to find out if Azra Iel knew of Harry's situation.

"It is an exception, indeed. This particular student has just gone through a difficult time, and here was the only place for him to stay."

The young man nodded.

"You may stay in Ravenclaw Tower for now, until we can assign you a proper room."

He didn't add that that would make sure the young man stayed as far away from the dungeons as possible without letting him into Gryffindor territory.

"Thank you, Professor. Highly appreciated."

Albus returned his smile.

"Then let me show you the way, before I really have to go."

He gestured softly for the door and the black-head pushed away from the armchair and followed the older man, hands hidden in his pockets.

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Down in a potion teacher's quarters, Harry Potter shot upright, the heavy textbook tumbling noisily to the floor. It took a moment to register just where exactly he was and when he did everything else came rushing back, too. The Dursleys, Luke, Snape.

He quickly got up on shaking legs. Now when he was awake, the haze began to clear up. Luke was playing him. He was trying to drive Harry and his friends apart. Telling lies and warping his own thoughts.

Or did he?

Harry shook his head with vigour. Thinking a knot in his brain wouldn't help matters at all! He needed time to go over the events one step at a time. Yes, that's what he needed, time. And a place where he would be able to think things through.

Casting his eyes through Snape's living room, the raven-haired teen decided that he wouldn't be able to find some resemblance of calm here. It wasn't that he found his teacher's rooms uncomfortable or antagonistic, no, it was more the fact that Snape was right now spying on Voldemort. He could return any moment and honestly, Harry didn't feel like dealing with the fake Death Eater in this state of mind.

Which led to the question where he should go. The castle was empty as far as he knew; the students home with their caring families enjoying the break. The teachers either home, also enjoying the downtime, or working for the Order, risking their lives god knows where.

Harry knew for a fact that Dumbledore was most likely gone by now, too and Madame Pomfrey usually stayed in the Infirmary. Filch might be sneaking around, but as he hadn't heard anything about the old coot he could safely assume that he wasn't in the castle either. That left him with countless opportunities to explore. He could sit in any of the classrooms, only having to deal with the occasional ghost or painting. He could go up to the Gryffindor dormitory, catch the best seat in front of the fireplace.

But somehow, none of these felt right and so, Harry decided against his usual student behaviour to go up to the library. It was more Hermione's realm, really, but to tell the truth, Harry had always been amazed by books. He read everything he could get his fingers on at the Dursley's, but in Hogwarts he had always felt compelled to be a normal student. Average, trying to go under the freak-radar.

The Boy Hero was famous enough; he didn't have to bring any more attention to himself by acting oddly. Teenaged boys didn't like to read, period. So, during the school year, Harry decided it was by far safer to just go with the flow.

But he didn't have to so now. He was alone here, no other students around he could tease him for sitting in the library.

Thus decided, Harry quickly scribbled down a note for Snape, not wanting to face an angry potion's master later, and started for the school's large library.

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What a strange old man! Azrael chuckled. The school's headmaster was a man to his liking. Although his wariness would sure hinder his plans. For now he stood in a large round overly yellow room. He would never understand humans and their need to label everything. What spoke against a room in the colours of the rainbow? Okay, he wouldn't choose that either, but still...

Azrael, or Mister Azra Iel as he had chosen as alias - no need to make things complicated, right? - put down the empty suitcase he had carried. He didn't need it, of course, but the grandpa would have been even more suspicious if he hadn't even a suitcase. So, for cover's sake... He sighed. These things were just so damn tiring!

He cursed Lucifer under his breath. The jerk just couldn't leave it alone. Why couldn't he accept that the old man had thrown him out, banished him from the upstairs flats into the basement? Not to mention that the bastard had it coming all along!

Another heavy sigh. He wasn't protesting either, now was he?! Born as an angel, Azrael could also imagine more grateful jobs than impersonating death. Ah, but who was he trying to fool? He shook his head. Somehow the work had grown on him, he liked it. At least he was **doing** something, not sitting around all day waiting for some idiots to worship the dirt under his toe nails!

Nah, really, Azrael was quite content with what he did. He had an important role, making sure that there was balance in the ratio of death and life. Which led to his current situation, a new one admittedly.

Usually, the angel had to interfere when someone's time was up, but he or she refused to die. That made him a spiritual hangman, a murderer. Now, though, he would have to do the opposite. He be damned if Lucifer managed to kill that boy! Not gonna happen!

He was doing this shit for too long to have some run-down megalomaniac walk over every rule and boundary ever established in their world. Not to mention that should the bastard really mange to break free, Azrael's life would be hell, no pun intended.

The angel heaved a breath. Time to check out the area. And find the cause for this mess before a certain silver-haired devil did.

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**A/N: **Sooo, I've thrown over the old plot completely. Didn't like it anymore, too many logical holes. So I dearly hope this is better, please, tell me what you think, 'kay?


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